A Silly Thing Called Hope
by SuzieCat
Summary: It's really hard not to loose hope when you're at rock bottom. And sometimes, anger and revenge are not enough to keep you going. My shot at Loki's path to redemption. Loki x OC
1. Chapter 1

Six Months Ago

_Loki felt the rotten breath of the Chitauri commander crawling over his skin, a sensation that gave him a chill to the bone. His body wanted to recoil from the beast and a distant part of his brain mourned the fact that he himself had unleashed it. The creature was trying to intimidate him and he had to admit that his counterpart was coming close to succeed. Loki tried to keep any emotion off his face but it proved to be difficult._

_When the hideous creature started to speak it was barely more than a rasp._

_"If you fail, if the Tessaract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice", he spat out the last word in a hiss that made Loki all but flinch away from him, "where we can't find you." _

_Slowly, the Chitauri circled Loki. His cloak rustled behind him and he braced himself for whatever there was to come. If he showed weakness now his plan would crumble beneath him. In the back of his head, a small voice piped up. What had brought him so far? Why was he being in cohorts with those hideous creatures? He shooed it back into its hole. This was not the time nor the place to doubt his intentions. Not that it would make a difference anyway, he already was too far down that road to turn around._

_"You think you know pain." Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw the hand moving towards his temple, foul breath engulfing him from behind._

_"You will be begging for something as sweet as pain!" The very moment the Chitauri leader finished his hand connected with Loki's temple and a glistening ball of light exploded behind his forehead, sending a searing pain through his brain that was a daunting foretaste of what the Chitauri were capable of doing. The image that was conjured in front of his inner eye was too cruel to be put in words and he jerked his head away in horror._

The god woke with a start, panting. He was sweating from the nightmare, the echo of the pain still tangible within his head. The cold stone floor of his cell had something oddly comforting to it in comparison to the dream he just had had. He wanted to cradle his aching head in his palms but the chains around his wrist inhibited the movement.

Careful not to move his head too sudden because he knew it would hurt, Loki sat up as best as he could. Trying to pry his eyes open - which was as much difficult as it was painful given the fact that his face had taken considerable beating over the last few days - he tried to find out which time of day it was. Only the dungeons of Asgard didn't allow much light to fall through the small windows in the ceiling to begin with and since he had lost his sense of time there were no hints that would indicate the hour.

Looking down on himself, he assessed the condition he was in.

While he only felt that his face was swollen quite badly, he was able to see the rest of his injuries. He still wore the armor he had been wearing when the Avengers had captured him, only that it was ragged and soaked with his blood. Where he could see skin, it was either cut or bruised. A few rips were broken which made it hard to breathe.

He wheezed some air into his lungs only to be rewarded with a stinging pain in his upper chest that made the blood vessels behind his eyes explode into red stars as he squeezed them shut. Although he was trying, one of his lungs would not inflate, the air he was drawing in going nowhere. The burning in his lungs triggered a cough he could not possibly suppress. A coppery taste filled his mouth and blood tripped from his lips into his lap.

The logic part of his brain that was detached from all the agony he was in noted that a broken rip apparently had pierced his lung. He coughed up some more blood in a bitter sort of laugh. The injuries were extensive but they would not kill him. Within a day or two, they would heal. He was a god and as such practically immortal.

Which was exactly what worried him.

According to the laws of Asgard, Loki had done the unforgivable. He had teamed up with an alien race to conquer earth. Which he himself could not find anything objectionable about it. Humans were petty with no sense of the greater order. They deserved to, no, they needed to be ruled by him since his brother, Thor, had done an exceptionally squalid job so far.

But in the end, much to his dismay, he had lost.

He had forged war upon the human race which had resulted in the destruction of New York City and only had stopped there because the Avengers had intervened. He was a traitor to his own kind which was a crime they did not take lightly.

Indeed, he was the monster parents told their children at night. And as such such, he would not be treated kindly.

This was just the beginning of his punishment, that he was sure of. They would continue to torture him just enough to have him tether at the edge to unconsciousness, throw him back into the dungeon to let him recover enough to go for the next round. A never ending circle of torment. And they would be creative about how they could inflict pain on him, he had not a single doubt about it.

In the darkness of his cell, the prospect of eternal bale left him shudder with fear, even as he did not want to admit it to himself. He wore his pride and dogmatism like a life vest, well knowing that if he took it off he would be drowning.

He was right and they were wrong. They had treated him cruelly, taken away the rulership he had been entitled to. His own actions had just been an answer to their doings in order to preserve what was rightfully his. A throne and a kingdom he could rule. A chance to prove that he was a worthy successor of Odin's power.

He was a rightful king of Asgard.

_Odin has never considered me worthy of being his heir, _he thought bitterly. But he was going to prove everybody wrong. In the end, he would be the one who succeeded. Not Thor with his weakness for mankind.

Steeled with new confidence, he faced his fate, not going to back down. No amount of torture would make him regret his doings.

_Let them come, _he thought smugly, holding back a smile since it would only hurt unnecessarily.

Nearing footsteps in the hallway announced that his torturers were coming to get him for the next round.

When he was brought back to his cell, he was nothing more than a limp sack of meat. He had not been able to walk back on his own this time, they thoroughly had smashed his left leg and had not been gentle with the rest of him either. Vision was temporarily lost due to multiple lacerations in his face and he was sure that there was not a single bone in him that had not been bent.

Loki had been barely conscious when they had been done with him and two guards had picked him up at each side. Slipping in and out of consciousness on his way to the dungeon, he had fought hard to stay awake.

During all those times that they had brought him to the torture chamber, he had not been able to lay eyes on his tormentors. They had pulled a sack of black cloth over his head before they would start their physical administrations. Not one single word had been spoken between them the entire time, the only noise that the walls had thrown back were the sounds of sticks and fists beating upon him and his own moans of pain he had not been able to hold back.

_Disgusting cowards, _he thought.

The guards threw him against the side of the wall where the chains were anchored. The rebound ripped another moan him from his chest as he sank down, actually thankful that it was over. His armor had been taken away completely and the cold stone offered some relief for his battered muscles before the chill settled in. His arms got yanked up and chained to the wall, the pain of it damped by the various other aches, all of them mounting in a cacophony in his head that made him belief his head was about to burst.

The door slammed shut, leaving him alone and naked in the cold darkness.

He started freezing pretty quickly. The tremors got worse with every minute and amplified the pain that was raging inside his body. He clenched his teeth in agony, not wanting to let out the cry that was building up in his throat. With all the willpower that was left he fought down the traitorous sound, all but choking from the blood that pooled in his mouth.

He turned his head to the side to spit the red liquid on the floor, hoping that he had kept all his teeth. It would be a rather lengthy procedure to grow them back.

As long as there was a spark of life in his body left he would not surrender to them. But he knew that he had come very close tonight which surprised him. He had not expected things to progress that quickly. By all means, he had yet to see Odin who was supposed to sentence him. Instead, he had been garbled the minute he had set a foot on Asgard.

Which led him to the assumption that this was happening without Odin knowing. First and foremost, his father -

_Stepfather, _he corrected himself bitterly -

his stepfather was a king with principles, he would have never allowed anybody to carry out justice before he had spoken it.

So that left who? Thor?

Loki snorted. Granted, Thor was foolish, stormy and blindfold, he also tended to overreact sometimes but as much as he hated to admit it, his brother possessed something he did not - a pure heart. Loki had fought alongside and against him and he had never seen his brother acting deceitfully or cowardly. Although he had betrayed Thor so many times in the past, his brother clung onto this idea of brotherly love. Loki had seen it clearly in Thor's face when they had been battling each other on top of the Stark building. It had almost gotten to him, there was a short moment when even he had believed that he could turn around and make peace with his family.

Loki crinkled his nose in disgust of how he all but had fallen to the sentiment.

Thor was not the end of the list though, there were plenty of other people - gods, humans and otherworldly aliens alike - waiting for an opportunity to have him pay back for his actions. The only thing that was playing in Loki's favor was time, they could not imprison him here forever.

Once he got out of this mess - and he had no doubt that the opportunity would present itself at some point in time - he would find those gutless scallawags and rub their stupidity right into their faces before he would rip their heads off. One did not mess with the God of Mischief.

The gloat warmed his body and for a short time, Loki bathed in the kindling flames of revenge, pushing back the pain until it only was a dull sensation on the periphery of his mind.

When he woke again he had no idea how much time had gone by. He must have had passed out from exhaustion. There was a split second after he regained consciousness where he felt comfortable, warm and fuzzy before the physical effects of his ordeal came back with full force. Every single fiber of his body screamed from excruciating agony. He wished he had stayed unconscious.

His damaged leg was throbbing in the rhythm of his heartbeat which was way too fast from all the adrenaline that was flooding his body to cope with the situation by its own means. His right arm had gone numb during sleep and now a thousand needles stung into his flesh as the sensation was flowing back into the limb. His face was one big hot knot of pain and he was not even trying to open his eyes.

Loki made a sound that was half moan, half grunt, carefully trying to sit up a little bit more. That was when he noticed that he was covered with a blanket. That caught his attention and he examined the situation further.

Beneath the blanket, he was wearing pants. Briefly, he wondered how they had gotten there but the thought that someone might have had seen his deranged body was disturbingly uncomfortable so he did not pursue it any further.

In the empty space of the cell to his left, he heard clothes rustling very close to him. A short moment later, something warm and damp touched his face and he jerked his head away in sheer defense, scrambling. The movements did not go well with his injuries and Loki slumped back on the stone floor rather ruggedly, a gasp filled with torment escaped his throat.

"Loki, shhh." The gentle voice was his mother's.

All the tension left his body in a rush. Although he would never openly admit it, he had never been happier to hear her than in this very second, in the dungeons of Asgard. The familiar tone of her melodic, earthy voice filled him with solace to an extend he had not thought to be possible. Tears started to well up in his eyes and burned into his flesh.

All he wanted to do was to throw himself into her embrace like he had done so many times as a boy when his brother's friends had shunned him. Going through adolescence, he had outgrown this urge quite entirely but right now, it was all his body craved for.

His mother was here. There was still a part of him that could not grasp the situation. Nonetheless, he let her wash his face, trying not to wince when she padded his injuries with the damp cloth.

It was hard for him not to sob so he fought back the childish notion. The wash cloth had softened the dried blood on his eye lashes enough so they did not stick to his skin anymore and Loki opened his eyes to directly see into his mother's. They looked clouded with worry yet kind. To his surprise, he could find neither any rejection nor reproach in them.

The small room was lit by one candle that was burning quietly next to him. How long she had been here, he did not know but apparently long enough to attend to his state of pitiful nakedness.

There were many questions that came to mind. Loki concentrated hard on his tongue, rolled it against the back of his teeth since he had not used speech in what felt like an eternity, using the time to sort his thoughts.

Could this be a trap? A cruel plan contrived by his enemies to weaken his defence by sending the only person that still held a meaning to him?

When he finally was ready to speak, his voice was barely a croak but the words came out in a rather distinct pronunciation which was a miracle given the condition his face was in.

"You should not be here, mother." He had meant for the words to sound rejecting but they were coming out in a worried and gentle manner instead. Who was he fooling, he could never be scornful toward his mother.

He was rewarded with a smile by her that warmed his core.

"You are my son, Loki. What a mother would I be if I was not here by your side?"

_A good one. The ONLY one._

"It is dangerous."

As if to confirm what he had just said her eyes moved to the cell door, her face taking on a more serious expression. When her gaze met his again, she looked determined.

"We do not have much time, Loki." She produced a small package from underneath her skirt. Unwrapping the rough-textured fabric, a big brass key came out that she used to unlock the chains above his head.

Carefully, she loosened the cuffs around his wrists, gently supporting his stiff arms while she did. When she had freed him she placed the chains on the floor without causing too much noise.

His muscles were numb from the unnatural position they had been in for too long and the movement stimulated the blood circulation which he could only describe as intense. He commanded his fingers to move one after the other and was relieved to find his digits to follow his instructions. Nothing seemed to be broken, just badly bruised.

His mother knelt next to him and took one of his now free hands in hers. Her hand was much smaller and more delicate but still strong. He remembered these very hands holding him when he was a boy, giving him comfort when he had had no other place to turn.

"You need to leave." He sensed the urgency behind her words and did not argue. He also had a feeling that she knew where he would be going.

Questions were swirling around in his head but she was right, there was no time for talk.

"Thank you, mother." He meant it.

Her eyes met his, her gaze was steady but he could see the disconcertment behind those amber orbs. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. What had he done?

"Do not thank me yet, my son. You have done wrong and even I can see that you have to be punished for it." She squeezed his hand slightly and sighed as if something heavy was weighing on her heart. Her eyes swept over the dark stone walls of the cell. "But not like _this._"

The last word came out as a whisper and she looked visibly shaken.

He did not understand. What was going on outside the dungeons? Was this Odin's work after all?

"Mother?"

Her hand went up to his face and cupped his bruised cheek.

"Now listen well, Loki." She drew in a deep breath, the desperate look on her face making his heart sink even further. "My means are limited so I can only send your flesh and bones."

She put her thumb over his mouth to silence him and moved on.

"Your memory and everything that you are will come back to you but I cannot promise when or how this will be. But before order has not been restored in Asgard I fear for your life and you must flee."

Before he was able to process the information in the order it had been received and formulate a proper response, her other hand reached into the pocket of her skirt and she brought out a phial that contained a purple liquid. She uncorked it. A barely visible column of purple smoke escaped the tiny bottle and the smell of rotten eggs filled the air.

"Drink this." She held out the phial to him. "Please."

He was still at the part where his mother had told him how he would loose his memory, when he registered the smell. His brain dropped the thought and went into survival mode immediately. It was more out of instinct than conscious decision making.

_Nothing good will come from that._ Loki averted his face, crinkling his nose in disgust. This was a trap to lure him into perdition. Angrily, he pushed her away, almost knocking the liquid out of her hand.

"You will not trick me, woman." He sneered at her.

She looked at him with sad eyes, brimming with tears.

Seeing her like this, Loki hesitated. Was he really going to reject her? The only person in the nine realms that had come for him when he was being held in the dungeons of Asgard and being tortured, certainly risking her own life to save him? His mother was the one that had given the throne to him after all, he had not forgotten about that. How could he deny her now?

Trust was not something that came easy to him. The betrayal he had suffered went too deep to be wiped simply aside. The fear of being betrayed again held a firm grip around his heart, enslaving him to a degree that would not even let him acknowledge his mother's help.

His head sank to his chest in an effort to fight down the bubbling rage and the urge to lash out at her and kick that phial into oblivion.

When her hand touched the back of his head, he jerked away. She did not give up though, her hand still stroking his hair.

Why was she still even here? Could she not see that he was a lost cause? He had been way too far on the dark side to come back.

"Loki." He could hear the motherly pleading in her voice. It touched a part in him that he had thought forgotten.

It brought out the little boy that had been hiding in a hole for so long. Dark haired, skinny and pale, he peeked out of his cover that he had been under for what seemed an eternity. Insecure about what to do next, the little boy stood up, searching for that voice again. He was about to give up and crawl back into his cave when it rang out again.

"Loki."

The little boy turned his head toward where it was coming from. Maybe he could get closer and see who was speaking to him with such a pure voice…

The image vanished from Loki's inner eye but he could not help but gasp because it had felt so real.

He raised his head a little, letting the resolve in. His mother's fingers touched his temple, her fingertips brushing over his wounds.

"Apologies, mother", he croaked, too embarrassed to look at her.

"None taken." She gently turned his face toward her. "Please let me help you. I beg you, Loki, as your mother." Her eyes shimmered with tears and he saw that she was struggling for words.

"You are my son and I love you more than my own life. I have found a place where you will be safe. There is no time to explain everything but you must know that I would never betray you."

And with that, Loki gave in. What else was there for him to do?

He sat up and took the tiny bottle from her hand, bringing it to his mouth. The stench was overwhelming. Holding his breath, he emptied the bottle in his mouth and swallowed all of it at once.

"Thank you." His mother whispered, audibly relieved.

For about five seconds, nothing happened.

Then, from one moment to the next, terrible cramps invaded his body, making him cry out in agony. The pain was excruciating, as if someone has sliced open his belly and now was digging into his intestines with vigor. His body spasmed violently but to his horror, blackout would not come so he had to endure it, fully conscious.

He was sure to be screaming but he could not hear a sound, only the clicking of his teeth that clashed together in the rhythm of the tremors that shook him.

Seconds felt like hours and just when he thought he could not take it anymore, the pain doubled its intensity. It spread to his limbs like an octopus, tearing at him with razor-sharp teeth, skinning him alive.

_This is what dying and going to Niflheim must be like._

Somewhere, in a very remote place of his brain that was not clouded by this stabbing pain, he noticed that his mother was actually holding him. Oddly, that sane part of him was removed from the rest of his body so he was watching himself how his mother was cradling him in her lap, weeping with him silently. She stroke his hair, whispering words of solace.

"Never loose hope, Loki. Never." The words burnt into his mind.

The pain vanished as abruptly as it had come and the world around him fell silent and black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Thank you for all the attention :-) I have the next chapter almost ready so this is just a little something to fill the wait.**

Frigga sat in the dark cell, alone. She stared down at her empty hands in her lap where her son had been just a minute ago. Tears fell from her eyes onto her blood stained skirt.

Footsteps in the hallway outside startled her, making her jump to her feet. She rushed to the wall next to the door. Pressed with her back to the cold stone wall, she waited for the door to open, heart pounding in chest. It would be the end of her if somebody found her here, Loki gone. Even Odin would not be able to protect her.

"Mother?" Thor's deep voice came through the peep hole in the heavy wooden door followed by his bearded face shortly thereafter.

Her answer was a relieved whisper.

"Thor! I am here."

The door swung open and her son rushed to her side, his strong arms catching her before she could sink to the floor. She clung to him with both arms, shaking from both the physical and emotional drain.

"Loki… is he… ?" Thor didn't finish the sentence.

Frigga looked up at her son and nodded.

"Yes, it is done."

The expression on Thor's face went from initial relief to deep concern. But before he could speak out on whatever it was that troubled him his mother continued.

"We must have faith that the path we set your brother upon will lead him back to us. Your place is with your father, Thor. He needs you here on Asgard."

The God of Thunder had never been one to conceal his emotions very well. Being commanded to stay put did not sit well with him.

"Mother…", he began but was cut off.

"Loki is safe. Our ally will protect him."

"But we have not employed this connection for a thousand years! What if she does not recognize him in his human form?" Thor was all but speaking loudly now, visibly agitated by worry.

His mother shook her head.

"She is bound to help us by oath her ancestors made with their blood." It was her last word on this matter.

Thor sighed but did not counter. His gaze fell upon the spot where Loki had been chained to the wall. Clenching his jaw, he balled his hands into fists.

Suddenly, distant noises caught their attention. Thor took his mother's arm and led her toward the door.

"It would not be wise to linger. Let me see you back to your chambers before anyone takes notice, mother."

They quickly vanished into the opposite direction from where the commotion was coming from, secret paths in the darkness of Asgard's underworld.

Meanwhile, in another part of the universe, on Midgard, the peace of night was interrupted when a half naked man fell from the Idaho sky. No portal was opened, the body simply appeared out of nowhere with a blip and continued its way toward the surface of the earth with a remarkable speed. He was curled into a ball, his pale skin a sharp contrast to its surroundings.

The impact was dampened by the roof of an old barn and the stacks of straw underneath. The only noises were the breaking of wood and a loud thud when the body bounced off the straw cube and crashed into the ground, knocking over a metal bucket and a couple of tools.

The figure rolled a few feet and then stopped, coming to lie about motionless.

It was a cold and clear winter night and if there was any indication that the man was still alive it was the small cloud of fog that formed in front of his mouth.

The disturbance was completely swallowed by the blackness of the new moon's night. A coyote fled the scene, scared by the unforeseen event.

Silence followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for the reviews and attention for my story! It motivates me a great deal :-) I decided to jump right in and introduce the other main character before going back in time. **

Today

It promises to be a warm and breezy Idaho summer night.

I stand in my upstairs bedroom, looking at myself in the mirror. The dark blue neck holder dress I am wearing has certainly seen better days but it still fits. And hey, it's the same dress I wore when I was in my twenties so I don't give a damn about a little wear and tear. Not that it strikes anyway, just a few spots around the seam that indicate the fabric's age.

The skirt's hem ends just above my knees, slightly flared. A dress made for the ages. These were the shop owner's words when I bought it. And right she was.

Besides, it holds too much sentimental value to throw it away. And I don't have anything else to wear anyway nor can I afford the money to buy a new dress. At least not one I like. You can say that I have a talent for picking the most expensive piece off the rack. That's basically why I don't buy clothes anymore.

Luckily, I'm not much of a materialistic person. Otherwise it would be a rather depressing life right now.

My shoulder long blond hair is secured in a simple bun. No need for make up, it's just going to be a hassle when I come back home and need to get it off instead of just falling into my bed.

Sighing, I tell myself for the nth time that it was a good idea to go out tonight. I haven't been out in what seems to be an eternity, I can't even remember the last time I danced and was happy. Oh wait, I actually do remember and the memory sends a pang of pain through my heart.

"Don't be silly, Abby", I say to myself. All of this lies behind me but sometimes I cannot help myself and drag out the ghosts of my past. Must be the masochistic part in me.

My forehead changes into a frown when my gaze falls onto the scars on my left arm. The scar tissue is thick, ugly and bulging, the deeply red color standing out sharply against my otherwise fair skin. It covers most of my hand's back, extending all the way up my arm and even though it doesn't hurt anymore, the memory of excruciating pain hasn't faded. Nope, it's a still very vivid part of my memory. Someone once said that burns are the most painful wounds and I'm inclined to agree. They also take an awfully long time to heal.

Quickly, I avert my eyes and take out a light sweater from the drawer underneath the mirror. People tend to get uncomfortable around me because they cannot stop staring at my burns so it's better to cover them up.

After putting it on, I dare one last glance. Yeah, neat and decent, that will have to do. It's not as if I am having a date or so, anyway. To be honest, after two husbands, one deceased and the other not only a violent but also criminal drunk as it turned out, I kind of put my dating life to a rest.

Not that there are many single men my age around to begin with. Not in this place at least. Even if there were - I am damaged goods so my sex life and I made a deal a few years ago. I don't think of it and in exchange, it doesn't bother me with stupid desires. Although I sometimes wonder if it's been plotting against me in my subconsciousness.

I leave my bedroom and go down the narrow hallway to the stairs that lead into the living room. I pause and draw in a deep breath, contemplating once more. Maybe even stalling. Don't tell me it's just a date (it's not) and what can be so bad about going out and dancing? Seriously, I don't even want to start thinking about what can go wrong tonight. A lot of things, actually. Which has partly to do with who is waiting for me downstairs.

Down there, in my kitchen, the Norse God of Mischief is waiting for me to take me to the dance. Granted, he is not in possession of his powers at the moment, he is a mere human, banished to earth, a fugitive in the war between the worlds. But that doesn't make it any less weird, now does it?

Not to mention the fact that he actually is a criminal that brought an alien warrior race upon New York City in his megalomaniac attempt to rule mankind.

Loki of Asgard, the fallen prince.

Oh wait, it's Eric. I made up a new name for him as well as a reasonably plausible past. I also cut his hair (just a little, wince) and advised him to grow a beard so he could stop living in my barn behind the house. The name wasn't so much an issue as the hair thing, let me tell you that. He bargained for every split of an inch.

Oh dear Lord, why am I doing all of this again? Trust me, it's not the first time I ask myself that question.

Ok, here we go.

Because, I tell myself sternly, everybody deserves a second chance.

And, courtesy of one of my ancestors, because I am bound by that stupid oath, almost forgot about that one. Apparently, deals you make with the Gods are supposed to last forever. No back door, nothing.

But when he literally fell into my lap a couple of months back, he was completely human, barely able to stand upright and was suffering from bad wounds, inflicted by his fellow Gods. I just couldn't leave him all to himself, oath or no oath. I would have done the same for anybody else.

Out of compassion, I granted him shelter in my barn and attended to his injuries. Back then, I thought it would be just temporarily as in a few days temporarily but who could have known? I didn't.

And don't give me that look. I know that this all sounds utterly lame even in my own ears.

I stopped counting how many times I told myself what I am about to tell myself but I tell myself one more time that I am doing the right thing. If, out there, somewhere, a chance is waiting for Loki to redeem himself, I will make sure that he gets to take it. Because I'm the Mother Theresa for Gods that took the wrong turn.

I snort.

"Oh, cut this crap already and get your ass moving", I mutter quietly to myself and start walking down the stairs. As if the God of Lies needs a human to show him the path to redemption.

_Well, maybe he does. _This small voice pipes up in the back of my mind. Maybe that's true but I decide to ignore it for now. After all, the dance floor is waiting for me. Redemption can wait. I have to admit that I am excited about this… this _date._

It's going to be a nice night out for a change and, despite of his flaws, Loki has his moments - he can be kind of entertaining, actually. But to say that Loki is an easy person to get along with would be the understatement of the century.

I haven't made it half way down when Loki's figure appears at the end of the staircase. He looks cheerful. Let me tell you, this is a thing that I generally don't associate with him. Brooding, cunning and compulsive are just a few words that are on top of my list.

_Should I be worried? _The thought crosses my mind.

"Abigail." This gets my full attention.

He is the only one who uses my full name, everyone else calls me Abby, and every time he does he manages to make it sound very special. When he speaks, his voice carries all the gracefulness and superiority of his divine heritage.

All of a sudden, my heart is in my throat and my stomach is doing the roller coaster ride. To hell with you, Loki.

I gave him some clothes of my late husband I didn't have the heart to throw away. Although Loki is about the same height as my husband was, he is on the lighter side - a fact that makes the outfit a little bit more casual than intended but to me, he looks just fine.

Well, to be honest, he doesn't look just fine. Gorgeous is the more appropriate term.

My sex life might not be existent but my sight is still working fine. I noticed it early on after he had gotten cleaned up from his injuries. His physique, or at least the glimpses I managed to get, is exquisite. Together with his height, his dark hair, piercing green eyes and those artfully chiseled cheekbones, he makes quite a sight. As a God, he must have been magnificent and terrifying at the same time.

_Oh, stop drooling!_

Now the very same quirks up an eyebrow at me.

"Did I pass the test or will you send me back to the barn?" He is trying to let it sound teasing but I can hear the insecure in his voice. It's an adorable trait, I have to admit to myself.

_Just don't get all nervous, Abby._

As I proceed down the stairs, I wink back at him.

"You look nice enough, no sweat." Loki's face is blank for a moment. That always happens when he tries to figure out the meaning of common speech. Over the last few months, he has gotten better at it but, sometimes, it still catches him off guard. Old habits die hard. And the sadistic side in me takes a teeny tiny bit of pleasure from it. Not that I would ever tell him though.

The aha moment is clearly displayed in his face and I bite back a laugh.

Loki pouts and puts his right hand to the spot over his heart. He makes a face and sniffs dramatically.

"As your humble servant, I pick up the crumbs you throw to my feet, My lady."

Now that lets me burst out laughing and I happily take his other hand that he extended to lead me down the last couple of steps. His emerald eyes sparkle with humor.

He pulls my hand up to his mouth to insinuate a kiss, his expression turning from mischievous to serious in a matter of a second, giving me a look across the back of my hand that makes me blush.

Damn.

"You look beautiful, Abigail."

Double damn. By now, I am positive that my cheeks caught fire. I will never be able to keep up with his mood changes.

"Thank you", is all I can mumble.

With him, I sometimes feels like a teenage girl and not like a 36 year old mother of two. His voice has a certain edge to it that makes my insides squirm in delight. Idly, I wonder if he knows what he is doing to me. Hmm… he probably does. But the last thing of all I can afford is to fall for him. He won't stay with me, I know that. With him being a God and everything, chances are pretty good that one day, he either will be found or he will leave me on his own accord.

So before I can embarrass myself any further, I quickly withdraw my hand and throw him a stern look. If he is offended by my reaction I can't tell because he laughs at me. It is one of those infectious laughters, pristine and genuine. He flashes his perfectly white teeth at me, green eyes sparkling. That is so unfair!

"Ever so serious, Abigail", he scolds me playfully. He turns around to grab his jacket that hangs over the kitchen chair. Dumbstruck, I stand in my spot as if my feet were glued to the carpet. From time to time, I still am having a hard time to wrap her head around the fact that the God of Mischief lives in my house.

"Hey mom. Going somewhere?" The voice of my almost 18 year old son is interrupting my trail of thought as the teenager enters the kitchen. I take an abrupt step and almost stumble over my feet. Gosh, how am I supposed to be dancing if I can't even put one foot after the other?

I manage to cross the distance between stairs and kitchen table without having an accident.

"Jason", I smiles at my eldest. He is an exact copy of his late father. So exact that it stings in my heart every time I look at him. "Actually, yes. We're going to the dance."

My son looks at me, then at Loki and shrugs.

"Sounds great. Have fun." He walks over to the fridge and opens it. When he reappears from behind the door, various food items are piled up in his arms. He gives the door a friendly nudge with his foot and deposits the content of his dinner on the kitchen table.

I turn around.

"Where's your brother?"

Just as I finish speaking, my 5 year old rushes into the room. He stops at the sight of me, mouth open and eyes wide with surprise.

"Mommy! You look very pretty!" He exclaims and throws himself around my waist. I stumble a step back, hugging my younger son tightly.

"Uh-oh, slowly there, buddy, or you will knock your mother down!" I laugh but stop when I think he just might be wiping his dirty little mouth with my dress. What would be the end of me going to that dance in a dress - my ONLY dress for that matter. I push the little limpet back a little.

"Show mommy your face, Matthew, will you?" Said boy beams up at me. All clean - whew. Catastrophe avoided.

"All clean!" he exclaims, laughing. I smile. He is such a joyful little person.

_With his father's face_ - the thought crosses my mind and I try to stop it but it's too late - _which is hopefully the only thing he inherited._ There no question that I love Matthew more than my own life, it is my fear that I won't be able to control the other half of him.

Gosh, I really have to stop having these dark thoughts. Come on, Abby, try to be cheerful for a change.

_Smile._

"Hey Mom, can I ask you something?" Jason saves the moment, gotta love him for that.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can Mary come over tonight?" Only to ruin it a second later.

I freeze in my spot, my smile all gone now. Slowly, I turn my face toward him, taking the time to get my expression under control.

"No." I say that as calmly as possible since I don't want to fight with him now. Wrong answer though.

Jason looks at me, pissed. 17 year old royally pissed. Obviously, when it comes to that girl, there is no reasoning with him.

"Why do you hate her so much?" He is raising his voice at me from across the kitchen table with his mouth full.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

"I don't hate her, Jason." Actually, I do but it wouldn't help if I were saying it out loud. Well, hate is a strong word so let's stick with not liking her. Still not helping though.

Bottom line is, the chick is not overly smart and the only career path she seems to have in mind is to get knocked up as quickly as possible. Her retirement plan, basically. Which I don't mind as long as she isn't doing it with my son. It completely evades me what Jason sees in her. Or maybe it doesn't and I just want to look the other way, pretending not to know that this is about the sex. Part of me even hopes that it's just that and not love. God forbid my son is in love with that girl.

I stop myself before I get all worked up over it. I tend to say things I'd better keep inside when I'm agitated. Which usually doesn't improve the situation either.

"Look, Jason."

_Be tactful, Abby._

I catch his gaze. He tries to avoid it but my eyes follow him until he gives up, staring right back at me.

"What?" He is still angry.

"The last time she was here, I found you both half naked on the couch, her hands in your crotch…"

"Mom!"

Ok, maybe not so tactful but that got Jason's attention.

At the other end of the table, Loki coughs politely. Jason and I, we both turn our heads simultaneously into his direction, glaring. I have totally forgotten about him being in the room with us and I feel sort of sorry for him. Although the sentiment is short-lived since I am pretty sure that the God of Mischief is also getting some enjoyment out of it.

"If you don't mind I will wait outside. Abigail, Jason." He nods to each of us and leaves through the front door.

"Mommy, what does crotch mean?" Matthew pipes up from behind me and I mentally face palm myself. Jason snickers. Just great.

But on the upside, the tension just eased considerably and the argument I was about to have with my son over his girlfriend dies down instead.

"That is not funny!" I point my finger at my eldest. "All I'm saying is that she can't be around here if you two can't behave yourselves." Since I am the only adult left in the room I must have the last word.

Jason has the decency to look guilty. I sigh inwardly. Topic dealt with - for tonight at least. I have no illusions about it coming up again. Welcome to parenthood.

I turn to my younger son.

"Go wash your hands before dinner." Matthew nods dutifully and is on his way to the bathroom.

"Where are the old folks?" I ask Jason.

"Outside. Sitting on the bench behind the house."

"Ok, just make sure that they come in and have dinner at some point." I know for a fact that he is still mad at me and although it hurts there's only so much I can do about it. My guts tell me that the more I voice my opinion about the girl the farther I push him away. Life is a bitch. For now, I decide to let it go.

Matthew comes back and holds out his hands.

"Wanna smell?" I do as he asked and ruffle his hair.

"Listen to your brother, ok?"

I grab my purse from one of the chairs, waving my goodbye. Next stop, a night out with the God of Mischief.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! I had to do some research (thank you, Wikipedia!) and make some decisions on how I would go about things in that story. For one thing, I decided to treat Frigga and Hlin as two separate entities because it simply fits my story better. I also had to go back and read a few passages in the Prose Edda to refresh my memory. Thanks to Poodle warriors who likes that Abby has children! I wasn't sure at first but then I thought about Loki being a father himself in the Norse mythology so I only deemed it appropriate to pair him up with someone who has some life experience herself. But enough with the idle talk, enjoy :-)  
**

Six months and a night ago

I was having the strangest dream. It was weird because it felt so _real_. The kind of real that lets you feel the breeze in your face and the earth beneath your feet. If I hadn't known for a fact that I had gone to bed a few hours earlier, I would have thought myself to be teleported to another place.

Only that there wasn't such a place on earth. Not that I have come around much but you know what I mean. The place in my dream looked so otherworldly that it couldn't have possibly exist anywhere on our planet.

But the odd thing was that I knew for a fact - as I was standing in a huge hall, confined by tall pillar at each side - that this place existed. Don't ask me why I was so sure, I just knew. It was as if this knowledge had always been there, the dream only made me to recognize it.

I looked around and felt very small in view of all the greatness and beauty that lied before me. The hall's ceiling was the sky, baby blue with streaks of white puffy clouds. Stairs in front of me moved up toward the center of the hall where a throne rested majestically. The hall sat on top of a hill that was surrounded by water, I could see the ocean in the distance as well as hear the waves splash against its shore. It was a lofty place with a glow that seemed to come from within.

_Wow. _The place looked like one of those pictures you find in travel magazines. Bright colors, nice contrasts and all high gloss. Only here nothing seemed to be arranged, it simply _was_. This place had a soul, a history that condensed in every stone, almost as if it were alive itself.

I couldn't see myself but I don't exaggerate when I'm telling you that my chin had probably dropped to the floor. The very same that felt cool and smooth beneath my feet. Everything looked as if coated by a mirror finish, even the plants that were scattered across the whole place had this magic shimmer.

Just as I thought that it couldn't get more beautiful, I spotted the woman that was sitting on the throne. Her beauty was beyond what I had ever seen and was only topped by the kind look on her face.

_She looks like a goddess._

She must have noticed my presence since she turned her head, brown eyes looking at me with gentle curiosity.

_Oh shit._

Something seemed to amuse her because a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.

_Oh double shit._

I gasped in shock, covering my mouth with my hand. Did I just say that out loud?

When she started speaking the force behind her voice almost knocked me off my feet. She barely moved her lips but the sound floated throughout the entire hall effortlessly, leaving an echo in my bones. Her timbre was pleasant but impressive nonetheless.

"I welcome you to Fensalir, child. I am Frigga, queen of Asgard."

_Sure. _

Out of all things, I hadn't expected this. It was hard not to laugh but I managed somehow since I had a hunch it would be a bad idea. Sometimes it's better to trust my instincts so did my best to keep my face as blank as possible.

So I was in the world of Norse mythology. Amazing what your brain can come up with. The scenery was pretty realistic to be honest. I tried to wrap my head around why I was having a dream about Frigga of all people.

I remember my mother telling me stories about the Norse Gods when I was a child. Later, when I was older, we would read the Prose Edda. Let me tell you, when everyone else reads the bible and goes to Sunday school it makes you an outsider. I must have used those stories to conjure up this dream. I briefly wondered what it would mean after all this time.

Granted, the alien attack on New York City and how a bunch of superheroes had saved the day had been on the news for weeks now, new details and pictures emerging every day. Maybe my brain had picked up on that whole Thor/Loki thing.

As if Frigga was able to read my mind (well, she likely was, it was my imagination after all and boundaries were kind of non-existent in dreams, weren't they) she answered my unspoken question.

"You are here to honor the oath your ancestors have sworn to me."

_Of course. Why hadn't I thought about THAT myself? Silly me._

But oddly enough, the words struck a buried cord in me and I felt a tingling sensation crawling up my spine.

What if this wasn't a dream? I felt stupid even to consider the possibility but the nagging feeling in the back of my mind wouldn't go away.

The goddess's gaze rested on me intently, gauging my reaction. Something else was lingering behind those hazel orbs though but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Grief? Pain? Whatever it was, an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach because I came to believe that I would be involved in it one way or the other.

Suddenly, my left wrist started itching like crazy. When I looked down I saw to my utter astonishment a reddish mark appearing just next to where my pulse was. It had the form of a spindle, not much bigger than an inch.

_What the hell?_

My fingers touched the mark, rubbing it but it wouldn't go away. The stinging became more intense as the mark darkened.

I waited for the pinching pain to wake me up but nothing happened. Just perfect, I was stuck in this dream, a prisoner of my own mind. This got me a bit worried the more I thought about it. I have heard of stories where people died in their sleep because they had a bad dream, no kidding. I didn't want to end up like them so I rattled the imaginary bars around me in my mind but to no avail. Still not waking up.

_Shit._

The itching subsided, leaving a perfectly red-inked tattoo engraved in my skin. In that moment, it somehow dawned on me that I wasn't dreaming. In fact, I caught myself consider the absurd possibility of being kidnapped by an alien race of almighty Gods. Go figure.

Frigga raised from her throne and made a gesture with her hand. She was a tall woman, her composure was regal and statuesque. Part of her brownish blond hair was held together in a loose bun while the rest fell freely in waves over her shoulders. Her dress was indeed one of a queen, subtly accentuating her feminine curves without compromising her social status.

Out of nowhere, three women appeared. They were of similar beauty but their clothes were less intricately embroidered so I assumed them to be Frigga's assistants. After a couple of seconds, my memory even volunteered their names: Hlin, Gna and Fulla. One was carrying Frigga's eski and wearing a golden snood, she must have been Fulla. The other one who I thought to be Gna, Frigga's messenger, was trailing behind Fulla, wearing a winged helmet.

When my gaze wandered to the third woman I swear my heart skipped a beat. The one that must have been Hlin looked a lot like… me. And with that I don't mean that we looked exactly alike, her features rather were bearing the kind of similarity that members of the same family often display.

I needed to sit down. But with no chair in close proximity I just hoped that my legs wouldn't fail me.

Of course, Frigga took notice of my stare at one of her maidens. The goddess smiled and beckoned to me. My brain functioned on autopilot and my feet started moving up the stairs until I stood in front of the throne, getting a good look at Hlin's face. It was astonishing, like looking at a younger version of myself.

"Hlin was the first in the long line of your ancestors that swore an oath to protect and care for those that are dear to my heart." Frigga explained. "As a reward for her service and sacrifice I gave her an immortal life amongst my kind." In other words, Hlin had been promoted to become the Queen of Asgard's personal secret service. I briefly wondered what kind of sacrifice she had had to make to be promoted to such a high profile position. I decided to rather not know.

Hlin smiled at me. It reminded me a lot of my late mother, God bless her soul.

Awkwardly, I smiled back. I didn't want to appear impolite but it cost me some effort to do it. This whole thing freaked the hell out of me.

"Fear thou not, my child." Hlin's voice was gentle and crystal clear like bird twitter on a crisp spring morning. "Our mistress will not burden you with a task you cannot accomplish."

_Oh, well, if that's the case then everything is peachy, right?_

I kicked my brain into gear and cleared my throat. I had a hunch that I wouldn't be given a chance to decline whatever it was Frigga and her entourage were about to make me agree to. Apparently, this was a family thing.

I asked the question before I even knew that I was going to.

"Did you talk to my mother, too?" I couldn't hide the desperation and grief in my voice. Even after all this time, the fact that she's dead hits me every time as if it just happened yesterday. If they were Gods than they had to have some sort of connection to the deceased.

Hlin shook her head, sadly. My heart sank but I composed myself quickly. What was I thinking?

"No, we have not. You are the first in a very long time we chose to speak to." The things she didn't say were conveyed by her voice. Solace, compassion and grief, too. I looked from her to Frigga whose expression was grave.

Believe me when I tell you that I have experienced enough in my life to fine tune my ability to read between the lines. All this time, my brain was reeling in the background, looking at every fact, leaving no stone unturned and putting together the pieces. Finally, when I caught up with it, it all made sense. Well, kind of, at least. But I was determined to test my theory. If I was trapped in this dream I could as well participate, now couldn't I?

"Is this about what happened in New York City recently?" I was very proud of myself that I managed to say the whole sentence without any stuttering. Ok, I sounded a little squeaky but I think I did well under the given circumstances.

Fulla and Gna pretended not to hear anything of it while Hlin looked like she had swallowed a frog. Frigga's expression went from grave to dead serious.

_Jackpot._

I thought hard about my next question. Why were they skirting the topic? And why did they look so sad and serious? A closer look at Frigga confirmed what I hadn't been able to read earlier. Her features were stricken with worry and pain. That confused me since the bad guy had been contained and the world had been saved. I mean, they should have been celebrating, actually, since Thor had taken his renegade brother back to Asgard. So what had happened between then and now that had prompted them to summon me?

I tried to remember the stories my mom had told me about Frigga. Besides being the queen of Asgard and the only one who is allowed to sit on Odin's high seat Hlidskjalf, she is the goddess of marriage and motherhood. Since she had mentioned that it was about protecting her loved ones, I assumed that she had been referring to her children. And she had quite a few of them. So who was it?

It could be anyone but in the light of recent events, I narrowed it down to either Thor or Loki.

_Oh… _I started to feel a little bit queasy as my stomach dropped to my knees. _Please let it be Thor. _

As my thoughts were racing through my mind, I was aware that Frigga's and Hlin's eyes were glued to my face. Since I am not only a terrible liar but also greatly suck when it comes to masking my emotions, I was sure that I was an open book for them.

I had to ask. It was either that or the suspense would kill me.

"Is it… Loki?"

Silence confirmed my amidst fears. A single tear rolled down Frigga's cheek.

_Ok, that's it._

I had heard and seen enough. No more tiptoeing around, I just wanted to get it over with.

"Jesus Christ, that's like pulling teeth!" I snapped. "You better start telling me, ladies, because I don't have all night!" Which was true. Dream or not, I would have to get up at some point and drag my ass to work - and my kids' to school. It took me awhile to get up to speed but hey, it wasn't my fault. I was supposed to be sleeping.

Gna looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden and Fulla probably wished that the ground would open up and swallow her. But I couldn't give less about the goddesses' feelings. They had dragged me here in the first place.

Frigga threw a glance at Hlin and it had to be some sort of sign because Hlin stepped forward to stand opposite to me. Her hand reached out and took mine that had the mark. When her fingers touched my skin, a tingling chill ran through me. First, it went all the way up my arm around my neck to crawl up my scalp. I simple stood there, unable to move at all, staring back at her.

The chill became an ice cold grip, pulling my head back a little. Panic gripped my heart which started pounding in my chest uncontrollably.

_This is NOT a dream._

Realization hit me hard and all I could now hope for was that it would not be too late.

_Why couldn't you just keep your damn mouth shut, Abby?_

Though a thick haze of fear I heard Hlin speak to me.

"Abigail, daughter of Diane, will you honor the oath I have sworn to Frigga to protect her beloved son, Loki, from any harm that will come his path with the means that you are given?"

The icy grip around my head loosened and I sank forward to my knees, panting. I feared that my heart was about to jump out of my chest and it took me a minute to gather myself. Hlin was on the ground with me, still holding my hand. The touch was comforting now, actually. I felt myself relaxing a bit.

"What was that?" I managed to ask.

"That was the oath's power. I needed to know if it is still strong within you."

I coughed out a laugh.

"I don't know what you think but would say it's still pretty damn strong."

"Yes, indeed, it is." Hlin seemed to be pleased. I didn't know if I should have been either relieved or angry but I decided to be just grateful for now to have passed the test.

Hlin stood up and pulled me up with her. My legs were still a bit wobbly but, all in all, I felt alright. To my surprise, the fact that the oath was still strong and that I had been accepted made me feel strangely happy. I tried not to overthink it though since it was probably just a reaction to the scary experience I had had a minute ago.

A thousand questions swarmed into my head all at once but before I could open my mouth to release them, a warm hand touched my shoulder gently. I looked up and directly into Frigga's face.

"I fear for my son's life if he stays any longer on Asgard. I will place Loki under your protection until it is safe for him to return."

I raised my hand and stopped her from speaking any further. This was happening too fast.

"Ok, time out, please." Frigga looked puzzled but didn't object. I took all the courage I could muster and voiced my concerns.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything but we are talking about the God of Mischief here. The one that almost leveled an entire city. Don't you think you're being a little bit too optimistic here? What keeps him from doing that again or worse? And how, for Pete's sake, am I supposed to babysit Loki without him playing some of his tricks on me?"

I thought that I had a point. I only hoped that I hadn't upset her or violated some unwritten rule.

Frigga looked troubled which told me that she knew her son wasn't exactly a saint. When she answered me her voice was thick with worry.

"Justice will be served for my son." She paused, glancing at Hlin as if asking for her guidance. The lesser goddess nodded and spoke in Frigga's place.

"Loki will not be in possession of his powers. Neither will he have any knowledge of who he is."

_Huh?_

"You mean as in being human? Without a memory?"

Hlin nodded.

_Oh, this was just GREAT. A human god with amnesia. What was I supposed to do with him? Hide him in my basement?_

Aside from the fact that I don't even have a basement, I didn't say out loud any of this. A look into Frigga's face told me that the situation was dire and as a mother I could relate to her wish to see her son in a safe place no matter what he had done. I just didn't know how I would fit into all of this.

"Can't you hide him on another realm? I mean, there are nine of them, aren't they?"

Again, Hlin spoke.

"Midgard is the only realm where he can be safe."

"Ok, but can't at least you come with me then?"

"I cannot do such thing. We are not to leave Asgard."

I threw up my hands, defeated. Arguing with them would lead nowhere. I felt a slight headache settle behind my forehead, right in the spot between my brows.

Right in the moment when I was about to tell them that their plan sucked big time and that I needed some time to think about it, a commotion at the foot of the hill where Fensalir was located caught our attention. I thought to hear the clink of swords and voices but couldn't be sure.

Frigga came out of her silence.

"We must not be seen with the guardian." She gestured Gna and Fulla who had been idling next to the throne the whole time. They hustled each other down the stairs and out of sight. Then she turned to me.

I gulped.

"Do not loose heart, Abigail. I entrust you my son knowing that you will protect him."

With that, she vanished, too, leaving only Hlin behind who took my hand into hers, squeezing them gently.

"I must away but let me say this. We are forever in your debt." Her cheek touched mine in a sisterly kiss. I heard her clothes rustle and when I opened my eyes again she was gone. I was standing alone in the big hall with Frigga's empty throne. A chilly wind blew around the marble pillars and the sky darkened considerably.

"That is not fair. I didn't even say yes." I mumbled to myself.

Darkness crept closer while my surroundings faded away. Sleep embraced me again shortly thereafter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello and my apologies for posting so late! I had this sitting on my computer for a while but didn't find the time to review it (crazy workload). I wanted to do some character introductions first before I bring Loki into the mix so please be patient :-) Also, I don't want Abby to be too gloomy although she has been through stuff. I don't want the story to get too dark and angsty. Well, maybe a little bit ;-) But I am planning for a happy ending :-) I love happy endings! Enjoy :-)**

Six months ago - morning

My alarm clock went off at 6am to wake me up. I was so startled that I wiped the stupid thing right off my night stand when I tried to put it out. It landed on the floor with a loud crash that made me painfully aware of my headache. I fumbled for the light switch and regretted it instantly.

My head was killing me.

And if this wasn't enough misery for one morning, my dream from last night came back to me. I froze in my movement, only to frantically scramble out of the sheets a moment later. Still in shock, I stared in disbelief at my left wrist where the mark was, a dark red tattoo in the form of a spindle, threatening my sanity.

"Oh fuck…" I muttered to myself. All of a sudden, a wave of strong nausea made my stomach doing flips and I hurried to get to the bathroom. I embraced the toilet bowl just in time and emptied the little that was in me into it.

It couldn't be. It had been a dream, nothing more. My mind was playing tricks on me for sure. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to find reason in the middle of this mess. What can I say? I failed miserably and heaved my head one more time over the edge of the toilet seat. This time, I was only dry gagging. Needless to say that I felt like a wrung out wash cloth.

_Maybe I am going crazy?_

I leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, trying to even my breathing. The tattoo was real. So had to be my dream, or better, my trip to Asgard, no matter how unlikely this had to be sounding in my ears right now. I mean, we lived in a world with superheroes and attacks from outer space so it wasn't far-fetched at all, was it? But until yesterday, all of this had been so lightyears away, something I only had seen on TV or read about in the paper. I couldn't have cared less.

But now it had invaded my life. I had gone to bed last night, oblivious to the dangers that were lurking at my doorstep only to wake up to a world that had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. The worst thing was that I wasn't prepared to do this at all. This was big, too big.

I stared at my wrist in sheer horror, tears welling up in my eyes. What would happen to me if I wasn't able to protect Loki? What if I failed? What about my boys? Matthew was only five, he would need his mom. Panic hit me with a vengeance and I crumbled, shaking and sobbing. Very remotely, I was able to diagnose myself having a full blown panic attack. Which didn't help really. Once you're in the middle of it, there's not much you can do against it other than riding it out.

I can't remember how long I had been sitting there on the cold tile floor, my arms around my knees with my head buried between them. I knew that I had to get up at some point since things wouldn't get better from hiding in the bathroom. Breakfast needed to be made, kids had to go to school and work had to be done.

While I kept contemplating my options - which was either get up and face the day or go back to bed, pull the sheets over my head and sit it out (and let me tell you, I strongly favored the latter) - I didn't hear one of the old folks coming in until she said something.

"You aren't pregnant, are you?"

Quickly, I wiped my face with my sleeve before raising my head to look at my aunt who was standing in the door, her pink night gown hanging from her hunched shoulders like a cloak. It almost reached the floor, her baby blue plush slippers peeking out from underneath the hem. She is in her late sixties, only bones and skin, albeit she eats like a horse. But what she lacks in weight she makes up for it with her strong will and sense of practicability. Sometimes a bit too much of both but I have learned to cope. It was either that or going insane.

"No, aunt Maggie, I am not."

Honestly, I would pick pregnancy over that Loki shit any time. But I bit my tongue. Groaning with a head and now also a belly ache, I got up and scuffled over to the sink to sprinkle cold water into my face. When I turned off the water, I felt a little better.

"What time is it?"

"It's past 6.30." There was no way I could have missed that accusing tone.

"Oh shit!" I darted out of the bathroom, ignoring her scolding face. Damned, it was so late already. What had I been doing?

In record time, I picked out something to wear, had a shower and was out of the house. Guilt was nagging on me since I hadn't said good bye to my youngest. I knew he would be devastated.

But I had to open up the diner at sharp 7 and it takes me a good 10 minutes to drive into town.

This morning, I had to drive a little faster than usual to make it. When I had opened up and stepped inside, the clock said one minute to seven. Mentally, I padded myself on the shoulder.

_Way to go, Abby._

I had just switched on the lights and the coffee machines when the first customers strolled in. A few minutes after 7, our cook, Justin, came in. I was already busy behind the bar, taking on orders and dishing out beverages. He waved across the pass-through.

"Good morning, Abby! How are you doing?"

Justin is a stocky man with a round face and a heart of gold, a few years younger than me. Even his dark brown hair is cut short, he always wears a stars and stripes bandana around his head. His cooking skills are famous beyond town borders.

I waved back, smiling. There was no time to chat since the customers lined up on the bar with their coffee mugs in front of them while the eating area filled up quickly.

Before Matthew was born I worked as a nurse in the town hospital. Having my second son I decided to stay at home entirely since I couldn't handle the shifts and on calls with a newborn very well. Four years ago, while divorcing my second husband, I had to go back into the workforce but the hospital wouldn't take me anymore so I ended up working for Howard, the owner of the only diner in town.

Actually, I like working for Howard. Each day is different and I get to interact with people. Of course, the job doesn't pay as well as the nurse position, not to mention that I loved being a nurse, but we get by and I don't want to complain. Life's not always sunny and, frankly, it could be worse.

And worse reminded me of last night. I fought down the panic attack, concentrating hard on the task at hand. I couldn't afford having a meltdown in front of the customers so I gritted my teeth and hurled myself into work. What can I say? It worked better than I had thought.

Mornings are usually busy at the diner and time all but flew by. By the time I had bussed all the tables and filled up the ketchup bottles it was already after noon. Ten minutes to 2, the afternoon shift, Shannon, came in. We traded a few words and I said my good byes.

I got into my truck, started the engine and simply sat there for awhile, doing nothing but staring at the wheel in front of me. I wore long sleeves so I pulled them up a little to peek at my wrist. The tattoo was still there, mocking me. A small part of me had been holding the hopes up that it would be gone.

"Crap." I cursed quietly.

My hands started to tremble and I felt the familiar wave of nausea creeping into my stomach. Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, I took a couple of deep breaths until the feeling subsided. All of a sudden, a leaden weariness overcame me, forcing me to rest my forehead on the wheel. I closed my eyes and listened to my heartbeat.

This was way above my head. The uncertainty about what was going to happen next crippled me. I had no idea how and when Loki would show up and hold me to my oath but the uncertainty was driving me nuts.

_But it's not my fucking oath!_

I wanted to scream out loud from anger and frustration. This was so unfair! I decided to punch my wheel with my knuckles instead.

Maybe I could just blow town? Pack all things and never turn back? I considered the idea in earnest for a minute. Leaving everything behind, finding a new place to live far away from all of this. Tempting? Hell, yes! Smart? Maybe not so much.

Aside from the fact that Frigga would find me no matter where I went, I couldn't do this to my family. This wasn't just about me wanting to bail out, this was about my sons, my responsibilities, my home - as much as I struggle with the fact that I live in this place, sometimes. I was never one to run away when it got tough though. Looking back, I made it through so many rough patches that this one shouldn't scare me.

So why did it then?

I listened inside of me, searching in my heart for the answer why last night had unhinged me that much.

Loss, betrayal, crime, death - these are all part of our life. They may strike you without warning but, at the end of the day, we all know they exist and can happen any given time. We developed strategies to cope with them, some do better than others and sometimes fate doesn't kill us with kindness but, at the end of the day, I have lived through each and every crisis of my life. Deep inside me, I always had faith that I would make it. I am a fighter and since I became a mother even more so. As messed up as the life I have sometimes might be, I am the one in control and I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

Last night had changed all of it. I felt like sitting in a passenger seat of a car without driver, racing with high speed toward a wall, well knowing that there's no way to avoid the crash. I had been degraded to a bystander.

I was never one to belief in fate. But here I was, a picture of misery, and fate was laughing at my face.

The knocking at my driver's window had me all but jump. I jerked my head up only to look into Justin's worried face. He gestured me to let the window down. I did, trying to gather myself while doing so.

"Hey, you alright in there? You look pale." He was worried.

I sighed, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air. Not that it helped much. My mind was still scraggy like an old rug.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Justin pondered about that for a second and I could see that he wasn't buying it. As I said, I am a terrible liar. He studied my face and came to the same conclusion, obviously.

"Wanna go for a drink across the street?"

What I like about Justin is that he's the practical kind of guy. I didn't know that I needed a drink until he had asked but now, it seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe the alcohol would relax me enough to get me through the rest of the day.

"I think I could use one." _Or two,_ I mentally added. "Just let me call aunt Maggie that I will be home late."

I took my cell out of my purse and punched in the numbers. The phone rang twice before the old dragon answered. We talked briefly and I hung up.

Justin opened the door of my car for me and I got out. We walked over to the little bar a block away from the diner in silence.

On the way to the bar, I seriously considered the possibility to confide in Justin. Getting the whole story off my chest could help and, what was more important, I trusted him. During my divorce, he had seen me in few not so pretty situations. All this time, he had never judged, he just had been there, listening and offering a helping hand from time to time.

He is a great guy and my best friend.

Still, I hesitated. It wasn't not so much because I was afraid that he wouldn't believe me. Ok, the story might sound a little crazy - Asgard, a secret family oath, babysitting the God of Mischief - but I wasn't worried about Justin questioning my state of mind. Stranger things had happened before and he is a guy with an open mind. The reason for my hesitation was more because I thought that I was supposed to keep it a secret. You don't go around and tell that kind of thing, not even to your best friend.

The bar was empty except for the usual suspects. One of them was Manfred, the town's infamous alcoholic. He was a big man in his fifties, not much of a talker. One hand around the glass filled with a golden brown liquid, the other holding his head in an upright position, he didn't look up when they entered the dimly lit room.

_This is sad._

"Hey, Abby. Justin." Ted, the owner of the place, greeted us from behind the bar. He had a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder and was obviously busy with cleaning the counter area. He is a tall man, all muscles with his back almost as broad as my dresser (I kid you not) with long grey hair that is hold together in a ponytail. A gentle giant. Most of the time. I heard stories that he doesn't treat troublemakers kindly.

Justin went over to trade a hand shake. Waving back shyly, I stopped in my tracks, not so sure what to do next. It was probably the first time in over 10 years that I had set foot in a place like this. I have a family, work - you know, stuff going on - there isn't much time left for recreation. And I'm not much of a drinker to begin with. Gets into my head too quickly.

"What a nice surprise!" Ted seemed happy to see us. It was probably a pleasant change in his otherwise dull afternoon.

Justin took a seat at the bar and gestured me to join him. I went over and climbed up the wobbly bar stool, wondering how drunk people managed to stay on top of it. They probably didn't.

"So, Abby." Justin looked at me. "How bad is it?"

This caught me a little off guard and my face slipped. There was no way I could cover it up quickly enough for him not to notice so I sighed. I could as well open up a little without giving away too much, couldn't I?

"You could say it's bad."

He seemed to take that in but didn't answer right away.

"Hey, Ted! Be a nice guy and bring us two scotch."

_Scotch?! _

Before I was able to object, Ted floated over to where we were sitting with three glasses in one and a bottle filled with a dark amber liquid in the other hand.

"That's on the house." He put the glasses down and filled them up to the rim.

The two men raised theirs, two pairs of eyes on me. I followed them, raising my glass. I actually had to be careful not to spill anything.

"Cheers!" They said in unison and flushed down the scotch in one single gulp, slamming the glass back on the counter. I looked at them how their faces took on a slightly darker shade and then at the drink in my hand.

_Oh to hell with it._

I brought the glass up to my lips, the intense stench of alcohol already burning in my nose. I held my breath and knocked down the drink.

_Well, aren't we jaunty today, are we?_

The scotch burned its way down my throat into my stomach. By the time it pooled in the pitch of my belly I was positive not to have a throat anymore because either it had gotten seared away or I was about to cough the remaining pieces out on the counter. I felt tears coming up in my eyes and my face started to feel very hot. Breathing was impossible.

"Shit." I managed to squeeze out before I had to give in to the cough attack that made me all but fall off the chair. Holding on with both my hands at the edge of the bar, I kept coughing until I had nothing left to give and I was able to breathe again. The burning in my stomach faded and a warm, fuzzy feeling took its place instead.

"Jesus Christ, Abby! Are you ok?" Justin was padding my back, one hand supporting my arm so I wouldn't slip from the bar stool. I heard Ted laughing.

"Here, take another one, girl. It'll be better after that."

I shook my head. Was he insane or something? If I drank another one of those it'd be the death of me. Wiping the tears off my face, I sat up straight again.

"Wow." I croaked, starting to feel the warmth that was spreading from my stomach throughout my body. Someone had kindled a fire in my belly that was burning with a gentle force. To my utter surprise, I felt strangely good.

"Wow." I repeated, this time my voice much stronger.

Ted chuckled.

"Another?"

Before I could even think about it I heard myself saying "Yes."

"Good girl! Can't stand on one foot." He seemed to be very pleased.

Glasses were filled again and this time, I was prepared.

The brown liquid went down, the burning not as bad as it had been before. The fire in my belly flared from the freshly added fuel, heat radiating through me, settling for a warm glow just beneath my rip cage. I felt oddly content. I felt brave.

And for the first time since I had gotten up this morning, I thought that everything would be ok.

The two men were curiously watching me.

"I'm fine." My voice sounded a bit raspy still. "Really." I added.

_Thumps up, Abby._

Ted's laughter roared through the bar and he clapped his hands like a child.

"Abby, you are tougher than I thought but I like it." He collected the glasses and the bottle of scotch. Before he went back to the other side of the bar, he winked at her.

Justin and I remained silent for a couple of seconds.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" I thought about his question for a minute only to come to the same conclusion. So I opted for asking something else in return. Justin has always had a strong faith in God. It is something I admire - his confidence, his unswerving believe that there is a benevolent superior being out there somewhere that created mankind after His Image.

In this very moment, I simply needed to hear that nothing could shake up that faith.

"Do you still believe in God, Justin? I mean with all that superheroes shit that has happened lately?"

He looked at me, his face puzzled.

"You know that I do, Abby." He leaned towards me, his big hand reaching for mine. "Are you in trouble?"

"No… " I trailed off and sighed. Why was it so hard to lie to him? The scotch made my head spin. "Maybe… yes. But I'm not sure and maybe nothing's gonna happen at all and I don't want you to worry…"

I scrambled along but Justin cut me off.

"You are my friend, Abby. I will always worry about you."

"Thanks, Justin." I squeezed his fingers. It felt good to have him hold my hand. Like an anchor, a safe place.

"You don't have to tell me, you know." His eyes caught mine. Gosh, this was hard.

"I know. And I appreciate it that you don't push." I hoped that my message had hit home. Justin searched my face for any signs of resolve but when he didn't find anything his gaze softened and he squeezed my hand in return.

"Ok, Abby. Just don't get into trouble." Smiling, he added: "At least not without telling me."

As I told you before, Justin is a great guy and really my best friend. Even though I couldn't tell him anything, he understood.

We stayed for another thirty minutes or so, talking about our morning shift. Since he works back in the kitchen he misses all the gossip so I have to fill him in every day. And to be honest, it's so much better to ramble on about other people's problems than one's own. It just reassures me that the rest of the world is crazy, too. We laughed, chattering the dark clouds away that had gathered on my horizon.

When we walked back to my car, I suddenly remembered something.

"How are things with Shannon?" Taking out the keys, I turned around to see him standing there, feet shuffling and hands in his pockets.

"Uhm… good, I guess."

"You guess?"

Justin has had a crush on Shannon since the day she started to work at Howard's diner. And I know that she reciprocates his feelings for her. It is so clearly written all over her face every time she sees him that it's hard to miss. Everybody knows except for those two.

His hands sank even deeper in his pockets while his cheeks took on a pinkish color.

"She scares me, Abby. She really does. I would be crushed if she turned me down."

"I would crush her myself if she hurt you." I said half jokingly and his eyes turned wide. "But there's no reason for me to do that. You should really ask her out. She's been waiting."

The pink darkened but a hopeful smile appeared on his face.

"You think?"

"Yes, I do. Just do it." I winked at him. "I can't possibly stand those longing looks from both of you at each other any longer."

We laughed.

"Yeah, maybe I should do that."

I stopped laughing and looked at him, all serious suddenly.

"Thanks, Justin."

"For what?"

"For this." I gestured around vaguely. My heart felt a ton lighter.

"Hey, don't mention it." He closed the remaining distance between us and hugged me. It felt safe and really good. There was a time when, for him, it was more than just friendship but I had kept declining his advances politely until our relationship morphed from awkwardness into a great friendship. Not that I never hadn't considered it to be more but with all my baggage it just wouldn't have been fair. I had put a lid on it very early on. Justin deserved better.

He let go of me but not without kissing me on the cheek.

"Be safe, Abby."

"Take care yourself. See you tomorrow."

I got into my truck and watched him going to his own and driving away.

I pulled up my sleeve, staring at the mark. Well, as much as I had hoped for it wasn't going away. And staring at it wouldn't change anything either. Sighing, I started the engine and drove home.

_I really hope you won't show up for dinner, Loki._


	6. Chapter 6

**I am back and I apologize for the long wait! Unfortunately, I do not earn money with writing fiction and since work has been crazy over the last few months, I wasn't able to write as often as I would have liked to. But I have not abandoned this story and I haven't given up hope yet to write more over the summer. Enjoy :-)**

SIX MONTHS AGO - NIGHT

Dinner came and went, it was the usual craziness. And I don't mean it in a bad sense.

We are three generations living under one roof so, generally, dinner is a noisy affair. That night, I was especially thankful for having my family around that would keep my thoughts from wandering. The table needed to be set, beverages needed to be made and it took a while until everyone was ready to sit down.

It was Matthew's turn to say grace. He folded his little hands in front of him, eyes closed, and said the words in earnest. If I were to set the rules we wouldn't be saying anything but, obviously, I am not the one who does. Mainly, it's Aunt Maggie who is in charge of these things. And believe me, it would be unwise to question her. I did it once and I learned that, for peace's sake, it's better to just keep my mouth shut and go along with it.

"Amen." We all joined him at the end.

Aunt Maggie had made chicken pot pie, Matthew's favorite dinner and we all dug in. The scotch had made me hungry.

Conversations at the dinner tabled circled around Matthew's adventures of the day, how he had chased the rabbits that lived in the field behind the house and how he had built a little tent for them out of sticks and leaves. Jason was his quiet self, smiling at his little brother.

Grandpa sat next to aunt Maggie, shuffling the food into his mouth, eyes fixed on the plate. He doesn't speak much, never has, but after the death of his only son, my first husband, it has become less and less.

"Hey Grandpa, are you going to the poker game at Ed's tonight?" It was Thursday and some of the older men in town would meet to gamble together once a week.

He nodded, putting another bite of chicken in his mouth.

"Great. I can drive you if you like."

He nodded again.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'm gonna drive grandpa." Jason chimed in. Since he had gotten his permit, he jumped at every opportunity to drive.

I looked across the table to see grandpa's face lit up. Well…

"Ok… but drive carefully."

"Always, mom." He smiled at me. It freaks me out each time he gets into a car. It's not that he's a bad driver or anything like that. It's just me that can't handle it. But I kept the worries to myself, smiling back confidently. The least thing I want to be is one of those helicopter parents, even though it's tempting sometimes.

When the last bite had been eaten and all plates were empty, I took Matthew upstairs to get him ready for bed. The bathroom routine is usually followed by reading stories and by the time the clock said 7.30 he was fast asleep. I sneaked out of his room, going downstairs to help aunt Maggie in the kitchen. The house was very quiet since grandpa was out with Jason.

I love those nights when there is no noise in the house, just the clacking of china and the swooshing of the water in the sink. It has something unwinding to it.

I took out a kitchen towel from one of the drawers and joined my aunt. She was almost through with washing the dishes so I only needed to dry them while she would wipe the counters and the oven range. We didn't speak for a while, just kept working next to each other.

"So how is Justin doing?" My aunt asked casually.

My hands stopped in the middle of their movements, the plate still wrapped in the towel. We had had this conversation before and I thought that we had gotten past it. Forcing myself to stay calm I pressed out my answer.

"He's fine."

Aunt Maggie sighed and I could see the her bony shoulder blades move up and down from where I stood. When she turned around her face bore a soft expression.

"He is a good man, Abby." She made a pause just long enough to wait for me to groan.

"And he loves you." She just couldn't let it go.

There were actually a couple of not so nice lines on the tip of my tongue but I held them back. As much as I wanted to tell where she could stick her advice I didn't do it. Mainly because we had been through this many times before and I was tired of having it again.

"I am not having this conversation. Again." I put the dry plate into the kitchen cabinet and reached past her into the sink to grab another one, avoiding to look at her.

"But I am having it." She took a dirty plate from the pile next to the sink, soaking it a bit first before she started to scrub.

I sighed inwardly. Aunt Maggie isn't someone to give up easily. I could either pick a fight or just endure her reprehension. The former, I had done before and let me tell you, it hadn't ended nicely. As in her yelling and me slamming my bedroom door into her face not nicely. After that, we hadn't spoken for three days until grandpa had made us to. I didn't want that to happen again.

So I chose option two, hoping that it would be over soon.

"You have to think of Matthew. He needs a father." Her voice was firm.

_Bulls eye._

Her remark actually stung. As if I wouldn't be thinking of my younger son all the time. Justin would make a great father and Matthew adores him. But what a person would I be if I used Justin? As much as I wanted to love him in that way I wasn't going to jeopardize the friendship we had.

"Do you think I haven't thought about that myself?" As calmly as I was able to muster I put the plate down, turning to her.

"Do you think I want to be like this?" I looked down at myself, then back up at her. Careful not to raise my voice and provoke a fight I moved on.

"Even if I was to love him I couldn't do that to him. I am damaged." A bitter laugh rose in my throat. "It wouldn't be fair."

That set her off. The plate she was cleaning fell back into the sink with a splash and she turned around.

"Oh for Pete's sake, Abby!" She dried her hands with a kitchen towel. "You have to give him some credit, he knows what you've been through and he's still here so stop being so selfish."

I opened my mouth to say something but closed it again because I felt what I was about to say would just make things worse. It cost me a lot of my self-restraint though, my hands started to tremble actually. Clenching my fists, I let out a huff.

"I need some air." I all but slammed the towel I was holding down on the kitchen table. "If you would excuse me."

With that said I stomped out of the front door, not looking back at my aunt.

"Abby!" She called after me but I had enough for one day.

Inside, I was fuming and it was hard to contain myself. No way I could have stayed a moment longer. What the hell was she thinking? I was tired of her messing with my private life. As if I had chosen it to be that way, two kids and no husband. Nobody to go to bed with at night and wake up the next morning. Nobody to share joy and sorrow with, seeing the kids grow up, go to high school, marry and have kids of their own. It was all on me so hell yes, call me selfish.

I was blindly running into the night, full of undirected rage and contempt for my pathetic self. I kept running until the cold air burned in my lungs. The sharp pain was chipping away my anger and after a while I stumbled to a halt, panting heavily. I wanted to scream but there wasn't any breath left in me so I opted for falling to my knees and sobbing instead. I hadn't had it that bad in a while.

From time to time, I would get sad or angry or both but it had gotten less over the years. After years of mourning a dead husband and a failed second marriage I had come to the point where I had acknowledged the past and decided to move on. Of course, that sounds easier than it actually is so, naturally, there had been been fall backs. Being there on my knees under the night sky made me think all of a sudden that I might have pretending something that really wasn't.

"Bullshit, Abby." That was just the last 24 hours talking. I got up and beat the dirt of my knees. The night was clear and chilly which reminded me that I had stormed off without a jacket. Rubbing my arms with my hands, I thought about going back to the house only that I didn't really want to yet. The cold air was perfect to clear my head and this way, aunt Maggie would have some time to cool off herself.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to the brim. Exhaling slowly, I imagined all my worries to go with my spent breath. It was a technique Justin had told me about when I had been divorcing my second husband - I have been using it secretly every now and then and what can I say, it does work to a certain degree. I didn't feel exactly cheerful but significantly better.

The noise was subtle and at first, I thought I was imagining things. It was a rather high tone in the distant, very low and sort of a whoosh like someone was cutting through the air with a very sharp knife or sword. It was gone before my ears could fully register it but not a second later there was a loud crash, accompanied by cracking wood and metallic clanking.

Total silence followed, there was not a sound to hear as if the blackness of the night had swallowed everything entirely, almost as if earth itself had held its breath. I shivered and this time it was not from the cold. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin, my heart drumming loudly in my ears.

I spun around to make out where the noise had come from when my eyes fell on the old barn that stood at the very edge of our land. It was not being used at the moment since we had had to sell our horses a couple of years back. My first thought was to run back to the house but for some strange reason, I hesitated. There was this weird feeling of being called that radiated from the old barn.

_Curiosity killed the cat. _A small voice piped up in the back of my head, reminding me not to be foolish but what can I say? Even though the hair in my back of my neck stood up to no end and an uneasy feeling was creeping over me I just couldn't stay away.

"Fucking crap." I muttered to myself. I didn't even have a gun with me. Looking around, I saw a rather sturdy branch that fell off one of the trees during the winter storm we had had recently. That would have to do. I picked it up and weighed it in my hands. It was a pathetic excuse for a weapon but still better than nothing.

Armed like that, I made my way over to the barn as quickly as I could, all the way my heart hammering in my chest from both the running and the fear of what I might encounter there. When I was only a hundred yards away I slowed down, catching my breath. I was probably huffing like a steam engine and I didn't want to inform whatever was in that barn that I was close.

My mind was racing and I held on to my improvised weapon with all I had. It might actually work out if I was able to take advantage of the element of surprise but that was only the case if that someone wasn't aware of my presence.

When I reached the entrance, I paused, trying to steady myself. My hands were trembling so hard, it was almost impossible to still them. Allowing myself to take a few deep breaths, I was able to got myself at least as far under control that I wasn't shaking like a leaf anymore.

_I should really get back to the house._

"What am I doing here?" I whispered to myself. Maybe the voice of reason in my head was right and I should just go back to the house, get my gun and come back. But a part in me urged me to go on and open that barn door. My hearing strained to its limits, I listened while standing there, contemplating what to do next. I couldn't hear a thing, everything was perfectly silent.

Before I could even hold myself back, my hand reached for the door handle and pushed it down very carefully. Pulling slowly, I opened the door only as much as I could stick my head through. Which I did.

Nothing happened. Nobody smacked me over the head or pulled me in.

After a minute or so of further listening into the darkness I slid into the barn, my back pressed against the wall while I was moving toward my left. The wooden branch clutched firmly in my right hand, my other hand was looking for the light switch. We had had electric installations made when the barn had been in use and I hoped that the bulbs would still work. When I found it I flipped it and while the lights flickered to life I prepared myself for an attack, holding the branch with both hands in front of me, ready to strike anybody that was coming toward me.

But again, nothing happened. Everything was perfectly silent. I allowed myself to relax the tiniest bit and looked around.

The first thing I saw was the hole in the roof. My eyes followed the trail of straw to the ground and I took a step back, pressing myself against the wall. For the fraction of a second, my heart stopped and miraculously, I had enough self-control left not scream out loud.

There was a man on the ground. His skin or what was visible of it was unnaturally pale and laced with bruises and lacerations of various intensity. He was laying with his face away from me so all I could see was his shoulder long dark hair. The only clothes he wore were greenish dark pants that looked like they were made out of linen from where I stood. His feet were bare.

My initial thought was that he was dead. I mean he had to be given that he had fallen through the roof. How he had gotten up there in the first place or what he had been doing there was beyond my understanding but that didn't change the fact that he could not have survived the fall. Only that when I looked closer I saw his torso moving ever so slightly from what apparently was breathing.

"Oh crap."

Completely ignoring the utter sense of foreboding that was screaming directly into my face, I made it down the aisle in a matter of seconds, passing a few empty horse boxes left and right and stopped like three feet away from the hurled figure on the ground. I was still holding the branch, ready to strike if he should move, now that I got a good look at him.

There was probably not a square of an inch that wasn't covered with cuts and bruises. Some of them were fresh from the fall I assumed but the majority was between a day and a couple of weeks old from the way they were colored and the scab looked like. In all my years as a nurse, I had never seen something like that. There was a particular dark bruise at the side of his rib cage and I could see from where I was standing that the bone underneath was broken. Since he was wearing pants I didn't get to see his legs but I didn't have a doubt that they weren't any different than the rest of his body. His bare feet were dirty with dust and blood that had trickled down from wounds.

The sight was so horrible, it was actually physically painful for me to watch him as he was laying there on the cold ground. No way he would be conscious, not to mention to be able to move or attack.

That was when my nurse instinct kicked in. Even though I wasn't sure what was left for me to do for this person, I just couldn't leave him like this. I went around him to the side where I could see his face and stopped dead in my tracks.

The branch fell from my hands to the floor with a clunky noise and my heart stumbled along for a couple of beats. I felt all the blood drained from my face, leaving me with wobbly knees. The feeling was that of being punched in the stomach and then get a bucket of cold water emptied on top of oneself. I gaped for air.

_Jesus fucking christ._

His face was pale underneath the various lacerations that were covering his cheeks and forehead, the swelling let him look puffy but there wasn't a doubt who this was in front of me.

Loki.

I still can't tell you what I expected back then how he would show up but _that _certainly hadn't been on my list. Maybe more like showing up on my door step, all glorious and scary, demanding shelter from whatever it was he needed protection from? Living in the guest room down the hall until his mother would come and pick him up? I really don't know but seeing him like this, all broken and not one single unharmed piece of flesh at his bones, made my heart stir with compassion. I tried to push that notion away given all the terrible things he had done to our race but it just wouldn't budge. Resisting, it settled down in a tiny crack of my heart. But like hell I would allow it to spread any further.

Time seemed to stand still during those seconds when I realized all of it. Again, the feeling of this being bigger than I could handle threatened to overwhelm me, my hand clutched my shirt as if shaking myself would wake me up from that nightmare.

_You have to help him. _

My inner voice urged me forward and before I knew I was kneeling next to him, my hands flying over his unconscious body to examine the damage. One of the ribs was indeed broken but I couldn't say how bad the damage underneath was. While all kinds of thoughts were racing through my head like high speed trains, the rational part of my brain assessed the state Loki was in physically spoken. I didn't dare to think of what his mental state would be when he was going to wake up.

_So not going there, Abby. No, not going there. _I kept repeating the words in my head to keep myself occupied but, of course, I failed. Ever tried to NOT think about something while telling yourself to not think about it? Yeah, that's exactly what I mean.

Good news was that he lived. Barely though but he had a heartbeat and was breathing. His injuries were extensive and I could only hope that there wasn't any internal bleeding. Whoever had done this to him had been very thorough. Again, pity stung my heart but I chased it back into its hole. He was Earth's enemy even though his current state didn't suggest that. I would have to be on my guard around him no matter how miserable he was looking at the very moment.

_Stay focused, Abby. You will help him to get better and then he will leave. _Until then, I just had to stay sane and do my job. Keeping him alive and hiding him from the rest of the world that was.

Quickly, I finished my examination, padding his legs for injuries. His left shin seemed to be swollen badly so I rolled up the fabric to get a closer look. Someone had had taken care of it but the bandage was already soaked with blood. Carefully not to move his leg too much I unwrapped it.

I couldn't stop the gasp slipping from my mouth. In horror, I stared at the hole that was presenting itself, blood clotted around the wound where the bone had come through. It wasn't a fresh fracture though since the blood flow had stopped and someone had already tried to straighten it so at least the bone didn't stick out anymore. But the fall surely hadn't improved the situation. I guess one has to be thankful for the small things. It had had to hurt like hell though. I shivered.

My stomach made what felt like a somersault and I swallowed hard, trying to keep the queasiness from bringing up my dinner. Loki looked very much like a picture of misery as he was laying there, his face distorted with pain even as he was deeply unconscious.

This was so not what I had expected to happen.

Anyway, sitting here wouldn't help much at all. I needed my medical supplies and blankets to get him both cleaned up and comfortable. I also needed a plan what to tell aunt Maggie if there was anything at all I wanted to tell her. I certainly wouldn't tell my sons. The barn was actually a good hiding place since it was remote. Even Matthew didn't come here to play. So if I could just keep Loki confined to the barn for the time he would take to heal everything would be ok. The cold was a problem though.

My mind kept rattling along and I was grateful to have something to think about.

"We will have to bring him to the hospital." Aunt Maggie's voice came out of nowhere.

I swear, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"For Christ's sake!" I panted, falling onto my bottom. My one hand covered the place where my heart was pounding wildly in my chest as if to keep it from bursting out. So much for coming up with a plan what to tell her. Could it be any worse? She just scared the shit out of me and I had lost probably 10 years of my life in this very second.

Aunt Maggie was standing in the entrance, armed with a rifle and a small flashlight dangling from a cord around her neck, looking all ready to shoot whatever it was that had intruded our premises in the ass on first sight. She was a pretty tough old bird.

Her gaze was vigilant and piercing, her eyes swayed across through the barn, quickly assessing the scene. When she lifted her eyes toward the ceiling, her forehead wrinkled and she looked at the man on the ground with a trace of incredulity. I could see all different kinds of thoughts flickering but in the end she settled for the same conclusion as I had and lowered her rifle.

Releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding, I scrambled to my feet.

"We must not call anybody." My mouth was moving on its own accord.

She raised two eyebrows at me and waited for an explanation I couldn't possibly give her. I mean, what was I supposed to tell her? I dusted off my pants, trying to win some precious seconds that would help me to say something credible.

"Uhm… " I started but then trailed off. That was a disaster. Out of all that could happen this was worst. I was mentally paralyzed.

"You know him?" She suggested.

_Do I?_

I looked down at Loki, asking myself. Of course I didn't but a sudden idea formed in my head. Since I had not many options left and I had to avoid getting an ambulance or the police involved under any circumstances it was the best shot I had at the moment.

"Yes, sort of." I mumbled. I needed more time to get the story straight. If I was to quick about it I would only get muddled in my lies.

Out of impulse, I stepped forward, putting on my best determined expression.

"I will explain everything later but now we have to help him first." If I could get her to go along it would buy me enough time to fill the holes in my story. And me being such a bad liar, there were a lot of them.

I closed the distance between us and touched my aunt's arm when I reached her. Speaking quickly and concentrated, I listed all the things she had to get from the house while I would be staying with Loki.

When I had concluded she still looked sort of doubtful but my request was answered with a simple nod nonetheless, much to my relief. Above all, aunt Maggie was a practical woman. She secured the rifle and putting it in my hands.

"Just in case." She glanced around me to where Loki was laying on the ground. Then her eyes shifted to me and I all but squirmed under her piercing gaze. Aunt Maggie isn't one to fool easily.

"I will be fine." I somehow managed to say even though my tongue felt like glued to my gum, my hands clutching the rifle's stock and chamber.

So she went. I waited in my spot for another minute or so. When I was sure that she wouldn't come back I released an audible breath, my shoulders slumping forward as the tension left my body.

"No time to relax." I muttered to myself. Making sure the rifle was still secured, I leaned it against the wall before I went back over to where Loki was. While I was getting my story about my guest straight I could as well prepare one of the horse boxes for him. We had decided to use the barn for horse boarding just recently and had bought fresh straw and some new equipment in anticipation. It was a good way to earn some money and everyone in my family loved horses so it was actually a no brainer.

Who would have guessed that our first visitor wasn't a horse.

I sighed and glanced up at the roof where I could see the night sky. That would need repairs. But first things first. I checked on Loki once more only to find that he was still out yet breathing. Then went to work, all the while mumbling the story I was about to tell my aunt so I wouldn't be stumbling over my own lies.

**So. Loki has finally arrived :-) If you feel like it, drop a note, I love hearing from you. And I promise to do my best to not let you wait that long until the next chapter is up. Until then, take care!**


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